


Vidi, Vici, Veni

by allonym



Series: Vidi, Vici, Veni [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, The TARDIS Ships It (Doctor Who), Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 02:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonym/pseuds/allonym
Summary: Rory finds something unexpected in the wardrobe room.  And then so does the Doctor.  Rory/Eleven/Amy.





	Vidi, Vici, Veni

**Author's Note:**

> I seldom write smut, but this story wouldn't leave me alone. :-)

Rory wandered through the wardrobe, searching for suitable clothes. While his wedding suit had worked for their trip on the Orient Express ( _in space!_ ), it wouldn’t hold up for their usual adventures with the Doctor. He just hoped the man inside the suit could do better.  
  
When Amy suggested that they leave the reception to follow the Doctor back to the TARDIS, he didn’t hesitate. Despite dying and then turning into a plastic Roman that killed the woman he loved, Rory had developed a taste for the whole traveling in time and space thing. Or more precisely, traveling with Amy through time and space. Watching her heedless excitement when she met aliens or stepped onto new worlds was thrilling and terrifying and brilliant. She really shone in those moments, like the sun, and he’d do anything to give her as many of those moments as he could.  
  
Except he wasn’t the one giving her those moments. Not really. He could help her and guard her and try to be the sensible one in the room, but he wasn’t the Doctor. Didn’t really want to be the Doctor, now that he’s gotten to know the bloke a bit. The man carried the universe on his shoulders — most recently in a literal sense. He was amazing, and Rory couldn’t blame Amy for wanting a snog with him in the shrubbery on her wedding day. He just wished he could figure out where it left them.  
  
Rory didn’t fault the Doctor’s behavior. The man wouldn’t even collect the traditional kiss from the bride. When Amy had cornered him on the dance floor during a slow song, he’d sonic’d the DJ’s machine to start playing an old Queen song, and then proceeded to spasm into the goofiest dance ever seen. Somehow, Rory was certain that if he wanted to, the Doctor could have led Amy onto the dance floor and swept her away at her own ( _their own_ ) wedding. But he didn’t.  
  
If Rory thought that Amy would be happier with the Doctor, he’d step aside gracefully. Well, fairly gracefully. He’d learned long ago to love Amy on her own terms — probably back when he was eight and got up the nerve to ask his dad for one of his old ties so he could play her Raggedy Doctor. If the Doctor was what she really needed to be happy, then he wouldn’t try to stop them.  
  
But it wasn’t so simple. Rory knew that Amy did love him, really and truly. She needed him there. So he would stay by her side and watch over her and love her and try not to bristle when she flirted with the Doctor. And he’d hope that the Doctor would continue to hold out.  
  
Which was rubbish, of course. What man — alien or not - could hold out against the attentions of Amy Pond?  
  
Clothes. He needed to focus on finding clothes. Speaking of rubbish, all he could find in the wardrobe were the most absurd costumes. One suit of velvet and lace. Another covered in question marks. A ridiculously long scarf.  
  
A centurion’s uniform.  
  
No _his_ centurion’s uniform. On a wooden tailor’s dummy, complete with helmet and sword. Looking exactly as it did when he still thought he was a proper Roman. Or rather a proper Roman who also had the memories of a nurse from twenty-first century Leadworth. He reached out and drew the sword, feeling the weight of it.  
  
He remembered killing barbarians with this sword. Those memories weren’t real. Even more not-real than later memories of being a plastic centurion guarding the Pandorica. That never happened because the Doctor reset the universe. His proper Roman memories never happened because they were a creation of the Nestene consciousness, and Amy’s imagination.  
  
But if he tried, he could still remember what it was like, fighting for the glory of Rome and the Emperor. His name had been Quintus Arrius ( _not_ Roranicus), and he had led a company of soldiers into the wilderness a long way from home. He’d fought and killed alongside men who were closer than brothers to him, and there’d been many a long night when a beautiful red-haired girl named Amy seemed like just a dream.  
  
He moved his sword through the pattern of fighting drills he still knew but had never really been taught, and then he laughed. Now he saw what to do about the Doctor.  
  
“Rory?” said the Doctor cautiously. Speaking of the devil. Or of the alien. The Doctor walked through the wardrobe towards him, smiling a reassuring smile that Rory had seen him give his enemies. It made Rory laugh again.  
  
“Rory, could you put the sword down please?” said the Doctor, still walking calmly towards him. Now Amy entered the aisle from between a row of clothes, looking nervous. She was dressed in a sea green top and black mini-skirt. Unlike Rory, her clothes were still in the TARDIS after the Big Bang II.  
  
“Of course, Doctor,” said Rory, turning and sheathing the sword. “Sorry, didn’t mean to look like a nutter.”  
  
The Doctor stopped and smiled more naturally. “Well, easy mistake to make, seeing as you were swinging a sword and laughing an evil laugh.”  
  
“Evil? Really?”  
  
“Well, evil-ish. Devilish, perhaps. Wicked. Although it might just’ve been the sword. Sword waving can shade any laugh to the bad.”  
  
“Wicked might be right. I was just sharing a joke with the TARDIS,” said Rory. “Look, she gave me back my centurion’s uniform.”  
  
Amy stepped forward, examining the uniform. “Really? The same one?” She sounded intrigued.  
  
“Looks the same, like back when it was new. Not brand new new, but like it was before the, you know, waiting. . .” Two thousand years of waiting had taken a toll on the original uniform, although he had taken good care of it and replaced the leather straps several times.  
  
Amy smiled him that special smile she gave when chanced to be reminded of his long vigil. He shuffled his feet; to his mind it barely made up for having killed her, but then she never held her lifeless body in her arms. Unlike the Doctor.  
  
Which strengthened his determination to resolve this situation once and for all. “So, what brings you two here?” he asked.  
  
“Ah well, we were sitting down to tea and we realized you’d been gone quite a while and got a little worried,” said the Doctor.  
  
“You mean _you_ got a little worried. I said that my husband could take care of himself and that we shouldn’t let the tea get cold,” said Amy.  
  
In other words, Amy had cornered the Doctor in the kitchen, and the Doctor felt the need to search out Rory as a buffer. Rory smiled. Perfect. He moved closer to the Doctor, into his personal space and then a little closer. The Doctor looked at him cautiously, as if re-evaluating the whole “possibly evil” thing.  
  
“It’s okay, Doctor. No need to get nervous when Amy does her flirty thing. She’s just glad to have you back in the universe. And you know what?” he asked, taking another step closer, until his face was just inches from the Doctor’s.  
  
“What?” asked the Doctor, leaning back.  
  
“So am I,” said Rory, and then kissed him.  
  
Rory was in fact a great kisser. Being engaged (and now _married_!) to Amy Pond, he had to be, if only in self defense. And Amy wasn’t the least bit shy of instructing him exactly what to do. So Rory was pleased but not surprised when the Doctor automatically responded. Rory deepened the kiss and reached up to run his fingers through the Doctor’s hair. It was incredibly soft — almost like cat’s fur, rather than hair. Well, maybe it was like cat’s fur, who knew.  
  
Rory shifted his eyes to look over at Amy, and froze for a moment at the shock on her face. Then she smiled, a big wonderful grin like she had gotten all her birthday and Christmas wishes at once, and Rory knew he was on the right track.  
  
But that moment of stillness was all the Doctor needed to collect himself and yank his head back.  
  
“But you’re Rory! You just got married this morning. _You just got married this morning to Amy Pond!_ ” The Doctor pulled himself out of Rory’s arms and hastily backed away, knocked over a clothing rack and tripping backwards until his back was against the wall of the TARDIS.  
  
Rory advanced on the Doctor with what he was sure might now be described as an evil grin. “True Doctor, all true. Which means that you owe us a wedding present. Don’t you think so, Amy?”  
  
“Oh, most definitely,” she said in a husky voice.  
  
She was looking at them both with an expression of such avid hunger that Rory found himself painfully aroused. He turned back to kiss the Doctor again, this time pressing him up against the wall. He felt a thrill of triumph when the Doctor’s lips parted and allowed Rory to slip his tongue inside.  
  
The Doctor tasted faintly sweet, like citrus honey, and Rory drew in the other man’s tongue into his own mouth, suckling it. Once again the Doctor responding, that clever tongue dancing with his own. Then the Doctor pulled back again, wrenching his mouth away.  
  
“Rory, Rory, think about this. Not a good idea. Tell him, Amy. . .” The Doctor had turned his head towards Amy, but Rory knew there’d be no help there. Instead he concentrated on the Doctor’s ear, lightly tracing the curve with his tongue and then sucking on the lobe.  
  
The Time Lord’s knees buckled and he sagged against the wall. Rory grinned to himself and sucked harder.  
  
“Oh, this is new!” said the Doctor. “Never had ears that did that before. Don’t think so anyway. This is entirely unexpected!”  
  
His voice rose abruptly on the last word as Rory’s hand fumbled open the other man’s trousers and reached inside. Rory was relieved to find that the Doctor’s dangly bits were just as normal as any other bloke’s, and almost exactly as normal as Rory’s own. Not that anyone was competing. Rory moved his hand firmly and was rewarded by a low moan from the Doctor. Rory let the other man’s ear lobe slip out of his mouth and whispered in the Doctor’s ear.  
  
“Please, Doctor. For Amy. . .”  
  
The Doctor turned to look him in the eye, puzzled.  
  
“This will help,” said Rory softly. “Trust me.”  
  
The Doctor searched his face, and then smiled that smile that made you want to follow him across the universe. “Oh, alright then.”  
  
Now the Doctor was kissing Rory with enthusiasm. Turned out that the Doctor was a pretty good kisser himself. Rory moved back so that he could reach up to pull off the Doctor’s coat. He let it drop to the floor, and then pushed down his braces. He was reaching for the Doctor’s collar when another pair of hands, with shiny red nails, got there first.  
  
“Let me do this part,” said Amy with a smile in her voice. She held one end of the bow tie and pulled firmly, slowing untying it. When it hung limply in her hand, she flung it as hard as she could over one of the clothes racks. She quickly unbuttoned the shirt front, and then slid a hand under the fabric, across the Doctor’s chest.  
  
Rory took hold of her hand, removing it from the Doctor’s skin and kissing the palm.  
  
“Nope, I get first dibs,” he said. “Wait your turn.”  
  
She gave him a challenging stare, and he returned it with his best Quintus Arrius glower. Finally, she relented with a look he had no trouble interpreting. Her slightly narrowed eyes and crooked smile said that she’d play along this time, but he was going to pay for it later in a big way. But that was okay. The important thing was setting the stage in such a way he could hold his own with the two of them. Details could be sorted out later.  
  
Soon both men were naked and he had the Doctor pinned against the wall again, kissing him deeply. A door he hadn’t noticed before creaked open nearby them and Amy, who’d been watching them enthusiastically, peaked inside.  
  
“Oh boys?” she called. “I believe the TARDIS approves.”  
  
She steered them through the doorway and into a room with an enormous bed, big enough for five. Or an aerobatic three. Rory had no memory of crossing the room; suddenly he was lying on top of the Doctor, his kisses growing more frantic. The mechanics of the situation weren’t intuitive, but Amy was there, whispering instructions and guiding his hand and arranging them with pillows and anointing him with something from a tube that was slick and warm and musky. And then he was inside the Doctor, it was surprising cool but oh it felt good, so damn good, he had really not expected it to feel this utterly mind-blowing wonderful. . .  
  
With a gasp he pulled himself away, crawling backwards. He didn’t want to spend himself, not yet. He rested a moment, on all fours, panting.  
  
“Rory?” said the Doctor, a strange tone to his voice. He sounded anxious, almost scared. With a shock, Rory reminded himself that the Doctor was a person, not some sort of animate marital aid. He quickly crawled up to kiss the Doctor gently.  
  
“Shh, it’s okay, I got you,” Rory whispered.  
  
“ _We_ got you,” said Amy, taking the Doctor’s hand.  
  
“Yeah, we got you,” echoed Rory. The Doctor smiled, a sweet smile of contentment, and Rory felt a surge of pride. _Over 900 years old, and humans could still surprise him in the most delightfully unexpected ways._  
  
Rory was pretty sure that last thought was not his own, but he was busy trailing kissed down the Doctor’s body and then drawing the Doctor into his mouth. What exactly was it that Amy did that felt so damn good? Something with the tongue swirling underneath right there. . .ah yes. The Doctor was moaning now, bucking his hips and Rory moved his head faster. The Doctor starting calling out in a musical language that the TARDIS didn’t translate and Rory sucked hard, tasting a spicy sweetness and its warmth filled his mouth and he drank it in, the Doctor’s cries echoing in his ears.  
  
When he crawled back up to nuzzle the Doctor’s ears he saw that the other man was still gripping Amy’s hand tightly.  
  
“You okay?” he whispered.  
  
“Oh yes,” breathed the Doctor.  
  
“Good. I need to take care of Amy now.”  
  
The Doctor struggled to focus. “Ah, then I should be going. . .”  
  
“Oh no you don’t!” broke in Amy.  
  
“No you don’t,” repeated Rory. Amy would kill him if she missed her turn with the Doctor. But first he had to set a few ground rules. “Stay right where you are; we’re going to need you.”  
  
He turned his attention to his wife. She looked ready to pounce, but he pounced first, pinning her to the bed, straddling her thighs. She bucked up against him, but he held her in place, smiling at the outraged hunger in her eyes. He was definitely going to pay for this later. He slowly unbuttoned her sea green blouse, his eyes drinking in each inch of flesh as it was revealed. His, she was his wife. He spread the fabric open, and then undid the front-clasped bra, revealing her breasts. He played with her nipples just as she liked, teasing and squeezing them. Now it was her turn to groan and grip the Doctor’s hand.  
  
Rory pushed up her miniskirt to reveal the sodden scrap of fabric that passed as her knickers. She gasped as he gripped them at the seam and quickly ripped them off. Oh she was so wet. His fingers slipped inside her and the heat of her body was an amazing contrast to the coolness of the Doctor’s. She was very close.  
  
He could feel the Doctor’s eyes on them but kept his focus on Amy, bringing her just to the edge and then taking away his hand. She whimpered. He moved up her body to kiss her, positioning himself. He let the tip of his cock rub against her clit and she called out, a curse, a plea. He gave her a deep kiss and began to slide in, very slowly.  
  
“You can have your Doctor, Amy,” he said, thrusting. “You can have him any time, any way you like.”  
  
_Really, shouldn’t the Doctor have something to say about this?_  
  
Okay, that was definitely _not_ his thought. He tried to project his own thought back. _Of course not! Anyway, are you **seriously** complaining, mate?_  
  
He felt what might have been a ruefully chuckle and turned his attention back on Amy.  
  
“You can kiss the Doctor,” he said, thrusting again, hearing her groan. He dipped down for a slow kiss.  
  
“You can fuck the Doctor.” Another thrust, harder this time, and another groan.  
  
“You can travel the stars with him,” he said, now moving in earnest. “Just remember. . .”  
  
“Remember who married you. . .” he said.  
  
“Rory. . . “ she panted.  
  
“Remember who waited for you. . .”  
  
“Rory!”  
  
“Remember who loves you more than the whole fucking universe. . .”  
  
“RORY!” she screamed, and now he was shouting too, a hoarse cry of pleasure as his body shook again, and again, feeling her squeeze him tight.  
  
After he caught his breath, he rolled off to her right, deliberately placing her between him and the Doctor. Tenderly he kissed her, carefully removing her ruckled-up skirt and crumpled blouse and bra, tossing them aside. The Doctor propped himself up on his elbow, looking at them both.  
  
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, leaning over Amy to give Rory a light kiss. “You’re both so beautiful.” He hesitated, glancing at Rory. Rory gave him a tiny nod and the Doctor leaned down to kiss Amy. She arched into the kiss and then moaned as Rory began lightly tracing a pattern on her right breast.  
  
Soon it was the Doctor’s clever hands and mouth moving across her creamy skin. Rory watched Amy’s face light with happiness and smiled. As he relaxed into post-coital lassitude, it occurred to Rory that having an extra pair of hands to help take care of Amy Pond was not a bad thing at all.  



End file.
